Chapter 21
“D ance it out now, girl,” I sing to Stella, who’s shaking her butt around the kitchen, both of us bopping our heads to the beat of Wild Minds.
“God, I love this song.” I hold up the wooden spatula in my hand that’s coated in homemade marinara and sing the final notes of this ballad along with Jasper Diamond.
“My uncles know them,” Stella announces as the song comes to a close and an Ed Sheeran song comes over the Alexa. I freeze, wooden spoon in mid-air.
“ Your uncles know Wild Minds ?”
She shrugs like it’s no big thing, and I’m sure to her it’s not.
Her uncles are billionaires. Hell, her father is a freaking billionaire too, which I guess by extension makes her one?
I don’t know how the money train works with these people.
I grew up in a middle-class home in a middle-class neighborhood, and anytime I went and spent more than five hundred dollars on anything the first year I was married to David, I broke out in a cold sweat and hives.
“Yeah. I mean, Uncle Kaplan did some charity work with Jasper Diamond, and Grace was going crazy because Uncle Carter took her to meet them at their last concert here in Boston.”
“Grace?”
“Uncle Carter’s… girlfriend, I guess.” Another shrug as she mixes the ricotta with the spices and herbs she added for the lasagna we’re making. “They live together, and she just told us a couple weeks ago she’s pregnant. But I’ve known her my whole life because she’s Uncle Oliver’s best friend.”
Wow. That’s a mindfuck. “Cool,” is what I come up with. This family, man. There is a lot to them. I wonder if I’ll ever meet any of the others aside from Luca. “All right, let’s layer this lasagna up, and then I’ll put it in the oven so you can go study for your math test.”
She groans, but that’s why we’re in her house today cooking instead of mine.
It was not my plan to do that. Landon and I had initially agreed all cooking would be at my place.
But Stella asked if we could do it here so she could study here since all her things are already here, and it’s not like I could say, sorry, hon, your dad doesn’t like me in your house, and my relationship with him is a hot mess of complicated.
And is that even still true after what went down Saturday night? We texted some on Sunday, but I haven’t seen him since he left after our furniture-breaking sex. I texted him to let him know what Stella wanted to do, but I never heard back.
So yeah. I’m a little wary about being here in the man’s kitchen, making a mess, and rocking out on his Alexa.
I don’t pretend that the sex meant more to him than simple jealousy and scratching an itch and getting it out of our systems. We’re not a couple.
This is not a relationship. Hell, we’re not even friends.
I feel weird being here.
“I hate math,” she grumbles as we make a layer of partially cooked lasagna noodles over the sauce. I would have liked to try making homemade noodles, but I’m not a miracle worker, and there’s only so much time to get this done in.
“I know, but it’s a big test.”
“Calculus sucks balls.”
I snicker. “You’re the smart one taking advanced calculus. That’s high school level stuff there.”
“I know. I just want high school to be easy, so I’m loading up now.
” She pauses for a second before going back to adding the layer of meat on top of the ricotta.
“Do you think high school will be easier? I mean, do you think I’ll make friends?
Find people who like me for me? Layla will be there, and she has friends, but I’m not Layla. I’m not as fun or outgoing as she is.”
“First off, I think you’re a lot of fun. I have a blast every time we hang out. But all I can say is I hope so. The high school is bigger, which means new kids. New opportunities to make friends.”
“I don’t care if I grow boobs, but all the girls make fun of my flat chest.”
“You’re thirteen, Stella. Most of those girls have flat boobs themselves. They’re just looking for anything they can use against you because you intimidate them. You’re beautiful and smart and for better or worse, your family name brings out the suck-ups and jerks.”
We finish the lasagna and cover it with foil, and I get the lovely task of lifting the heavy dish into the oven to bake. We already made a salad—using a million fresh veggies from her garden and greenhouse—and the garlic bread.
“I haven’t come out yet to anyone in my school.”
I nod. I already figured this. “Do you want to?”
“I don’t need anyone making more fun of me.”
Oh, this poor girl.
I shut the oven door and reach out, bringing her into my chest, hugging her close because sometimes, that’s all you can do. Be there for someone when they need it. I rock her gently to the music playing in the background.
“You do it in your own time when you’re ready.
And whenever you decide that is, you have the love and support of an amazing family.
Plus Layla. Plus me. When people make fun of you, that’s a reflection of themselves.
Not you. It’s their anger, their insecurities, their crap.
You feel me on that? It’s them taking their crap out on you.
You are special and wonderful, and I’m so proud of you for owning who you are.
Whether you choose to share it with anyone else or not is your call to make. ”
“I know. I just…” She hugs me tighter, and I fight my threatening emotions before they get the best of me. “I just want to meet new people in high school.”
I kiss the top of her head. “I want that for you too.” More than anything, I want that for her. I give her another kiss, a tighter squeeze, then I release her with a soft smile. “All right, homework time. For both of us.” I wink, and she giggles, grabbing her bag off the floor and running upstairs.
And now I feel even weirder than I did twenty minutes ago.
But I can’t leave. Not with the lasagna in the oven and frankly, I don’t want to. I want to see Landon. Try to get a read on him so I can temper my own expectations.
Settling in at the counter in the large kitchen, I listen to music while reading over history essays. And when there are ten minutes left on the lasagna, I pop the garlic bread in the oven and take the salad out of the fridge. I don’t plan to stay. Not unless he asks me himself.
That’s not what this was about, but I can’t help the hope as it blooms inside me.
Removing the foil from the bubbling lasagna so the cheese can finish melting, I check my watch.
It’s nearly seven, and I still have so much homework to grade.
Essays take forever, especially written by middle schoolers.
Even if they are on Roman gods. I mean, how easy is that?
Might not be actual history, but to the Romans who believed in their gods fiercely, it is.
Picking a god and explaining how he or she impacted the daily lives of the Romans and why they were so important to their culture is a pretty cool assignment.
If I do say so myself.
After doing one last paper, I tuck all my papers back in my bag and set it off to the side. The lasagna smells like another form of heaven, and as I open the oven, armed with oven mitts, my stomach grumbles, and my mouth pools with saliva. It looks better than it smells.
The timer I set on Alexa goes off just as I’m lifting the dish out of the oven. “Alexa, cancel the timer.”
“Smells great in here,” Landon says behind me, and I scream, startling so bad I jump and spin around on instinct.
The heavy tray of lasagna sloshes in my hands, seeping over the edge of the dish and onto my oven mitt, burning me through the thick cotton.
But it’s heavy and before I know what’s happening, it goes crashing to the floor.
Sauce, noodles, cheese, and meat go flying, splattering every possible surface. The dish smashes, breaking apart and adding to the horrific mess.
For a second all I can do is stand here in abject horror, taking in the carnage of ruined dinner before my eyes. What have I done? Blood rushes through my ears like a freight train, blocking out all other sounds. Landon is standing there, saying something to me, but I can’t handle it.
“I’m so sorry.”
I drop to my knees, ripping off the mitts and going for the broken dish first. I have to clean this up.
Stupid, ungrateful bitch. Look what you did, you clumsy cunt.
You can’t even make dinner without fucking it up.
Is there anything you do right? Anything?
Useless. That’s what you are, Elle. Fucking useless.
“I’m so sorry.”
Hot sauce burns through my pants and onto my knees as I gather pieces of the dish, setting them off to the side. How will I ever clean this up?
“Elle. What are you doing? Stop.”
I shake my head.
“Stella, out of here. It’s okay. Everything is fine. Go back upstairs and order a pizza for all of us. I’ve got this. Go.”
Landon’s words crackle in my periphery, but I can’t quite make sense of them. All I see is the mess. All I hear is David in my head as my vision sways and a haze washes over me.
What the fuck is wrong with you?! How could you have fucked this up? How could you possibly be this fucking stupid? A child could have done a better job. I should have married someone with half a brain instead of you. Worthless. Ugly. Ungrateful. Stupid. Bitch.
“Elle!” Landon’s voice booms right in my face, and I snap up, taking him in. He’s incensed, and I can’t stop the sob as it flees my lips, my whole body trembling. “Stop!”
“I’m so sorry. It was an accident. I’ll clean it all up. It’ll be like—”
My words cut off, air whooshing from my lungs as I’m lifted off my knees, off the floor, and dropped onto the counter. “Elle, look at me.”
I can’t. I can’t stop staring at the mess. His hand is on my cheek, forcing me up. His green eyes invade, his face inches from mine, demanding I see him.